After being blessed with such an early harvest last year, everything feels late. It’s like spring will never come. Of course, there’s greens (there’s always greens), but I wanted real spring. Asparagus, garlic scapes, strawberries. I religiously follow GrowNYC’s twitter feeds. It’s honestly the best way to see what’s at the markets right now. When I noticed rhubarb had hit the markets I was beyond excited. That is until I remembered I had designated Mother’s Day dessert duty to my sister-in-law. What else could I possibly do with rhubarb besides stick it in a pie, crisp or spoon a sauce of it over a panna cotta?
It just isn’t spring without asparagus. I slept in a little last Saturday. I knew I had to get to the greenmarket early to guarantee the freshest produce, but with the weather being extra soggy, I figured an extra hour wouldn’t really matter. Boy was I wrong. Note to self: Greenmarket shoppers are hardcore. Rain, sleet, snow or torrential downpour. They’ll be there, especially during the early weeks of spring where a bunch of green asparagus or rosy red rhubarb is like a blinding ray of sunshine among an otherwise grey day. So if you want the good stuff, you better be there bright and early too.
I’ve been quiet the past few days, I know. It’s been a busy week/weekend/month/life. More than anything I’ve enjoyed some time cooking and not having to think about how the dish comes out, how well it will photograph, or well I can optimize a post and tags. Because that’s what we do as bloggers. We’ve subconsciously learned to think of anything that could possibly relate to a potential blog post in just that sense. But sometimes you need a break. I’ve been preparing for Mother’s Day, and while I’ll probably still share a few recipes, they may not be as step-by-step detailed as they could be. Sometimes you just need time to focus on cooking. Especially for such a special holiday. To make sure your energy is not spent on perfect photos (or in my case the effort to achieve semi-passable photos) but on forcing every ounce of love into the dish you can.
Do you ever notice that? How food is practically centric to any event? We use it as a celebration—birthday cakes, wedding cakes. We use it as apologies—a batch of homemade cookies to say “I’m sorry.” We use it as an agent of health—chicken soup heals anything—and as a thank you for a small deed like helping to paint a room, or a big deed, like helping to grow up.